Bleach: A Tangled Tale
by St. Harridan
Summary: Prince Charming comes to rescue his princess. Just crack. Obviously not to be taken seriously.


Once upon a time, there lived a princess whose hair shone bright and golden under the ray of the morning sun, whose face glowed and cheeks flushed with the warmth of the dawn. Her dress shimmered pink and yellow, dusted with sparkles that seemed to have been plucked from the rainbow. Her feet were bare, and they would step lightly upon the wooden floor of her room as she hopped from her desk to her wardrobe to her dressing table to examine herself in order to fulfil her self-proclaimed minimum count of standing in front of the mirror ten times a day.

The princess lived in a high tower that seemed to soar up into the sky, behind which the sun set and before which the sun rose. Locked away as a daughter and, sometimes, prisoner, by her very own mother, she longed and awaited the day her prince, astride his white stallion, would come galloping down those rolling hills in the distance to rescue her. She was also hiding a secret, a secret so secret, that no one but her mother knew. The old woman wouldn't tell her, said that she hadn't the right to know such things.

"But, Mother," she pushed further one day, "why won't you tell me? I do have the right to know. What is wrong with me, Mother? Please, tell me."

But Mother would only wave a hand and order her back to her room. She would then shut the door, slam it so hard until the hinges cracked and the painting on the nearby wall fell and its glass case broke. She would lock the princess up for days on end after that, sparing her only a bowl of fruit, a crust of bread, and a glass of water each day. The princess would cry and cry until she could cry no longer, until her eyes were red and bloodshot and her skin seemed to burn under the ray of the setting sun. When that happened, she would retreat into darkness and sob tearlessly into her the hem of her gown, hoping and praying hard for her prince to come.

On one particular fine evening, the princess was sitting at her desk, brushing her long, golden locks, when she heard a rather strange voice calling from below her window. In confusion, she stood up and went to take a look and saw a man clad in peasant clothes.

"Orihime, Orihime, please let down thy golden extensions!" he was calling out, much to her surprise. She leaned over the balcony to have a better look. If Mother found her like this, she would be slaughtered alive and taken for supper, so she made sure to make the encounter quick. Mother also told her not to be out on the balcony this late.

The young man, who appeared to be no more than a boy fresh out of his teenage years, continued to beckon to her, his mop of orange hair swept up on end as the breeze caught it.

"And who might you be, little peasant?"

"I am a prince from a faraway land," he proclaimed grandly, with a hand to his heart and a big smile on his face, his eyes shining with anticipation, "and I have come to rescue you from this prison in which the old witch has been keeping you. Never fear, Orihime, for I shall give my life for you."

"You are a…prince?" She tilted her head to the side, examining him. She had heard tales of princes from none other than her mother, who used to be such a kindred soul when she was younger, and the images she had kept with her throughout her childhood of heroes rescuing damsels in distress were very much different to what she was experiencing.

She pointed, a frown etched on her face. "Where is your white stallion, oh noble prince?"

"White…stallion?" He blinked up at her, and then pointed at the animal behind his back. She looked. It was a brown boar the size of a water buffalo with large, white tusks. It gave a snort, as if in greeting, and she nearly blew her top.

"That is not a white stallion, sir. That is a pig."

"Yes, it is."

"What are you riding?"

"I want to ride you."

"Pardon?"

"I rode the boar – horse – pig – from my castle to come to rescue you, princess." He grinned and held out his hand. "Now, will you let down your hair and allow me the privilege to hold your hand and have you ride with me?"

"Well, let me-" And then the princess started to scream. She threw her hands up in the air, flailed them, as the skin of her throat began to burn and bubble as if she had been hit by acid. Her nails scratched at her neck to chase away the pain, but it only made matters worse. Her skin started to peel, and the more she scratched at it, the more she tore off. Soon, her red, raw flesh was beginning to show, as well as the bone of her spine. Her golden hair fell off her scalp like the ripped folds of a curtain, and from her bare head sprouted a great mane of black hair and a pair of ivory horns. Still screaming and wailing like there was no tomorrow, her voice echoing across the rolling hills, she bent over and from her back, to the prince's horror, a pair of black, leathery bat wings burst through her flesh and skin.

Steam seeped out through her fingers as she held them to her face, and as the sun made its final descent behind the mountains, the princess was the princess no longer. Slowly, her hands came to rest by her sides. She spread her wings, large and dark, blending in with the looming night. She grinned, showing her mouth full of sharp, pointy teeth. Ripping off the hem of her gown, she climbed up onto the balcony just as the door of her bedroom behind her swung open.

Mother shrieked, but she didn't care. She stepped off the railing and hurtled through the air like a crash-landing bird, and in the next second, the prince found himself staring eye-to-eye with the beast's piercing green eyes.

"I would gladly let you ride me," it whispered in a deep voice that was just too animalistic to be human.

And the last thing Mother heard on the balcony was the chilling scream from Prince Charming.


End file.
